


all the sorrows we have seen (oh everything's a mess)

by regrowing_a_heart



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Character Study, Gen, i really like this and i hope you do too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:33:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regrowing_a_heart/pseuds/regrowing_a_heart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about three lost children, waiting for a boy to bring them back to the light.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the sorrows we have seen (oh everything's a mess)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone at kh-worldsconnected for making this possible- it was my first time being in a collab of this scale, and I’m very proud to have been a part of it! Extra special thanks to my partner, the fantastic jellyshades, who created an amazing accompanying piece of art, which can be found here: http://jellyshades.tumblr.com/image/149512797100
> 
> Title from the Imagine Dragons song Dream.

**Aqua**

In the twilight of the Realm of Darkness, there is only ever the suggestion of light. Like a cruelly broken promise. Like a taunt. It’s a black hole – the pinprick of light far above only serving to highlight how far she has fallen.

***

It feels as if she's been walking forever.

No, wait, that's not right.

She's only been walking a little while, surely.

Right?

After all, she can still remember the outside world (so bright, brighter than anything here) as clearly as if she had just fallen from it.

Well, she had just fallen from it.

Aqua remembers the panic that consumed her as she flew downwards into the void, the strain of reaching for Terra's hand, and the pain of having to choose between herself and him.

The selfless choice - logic, not emotion, ruling the decision-making process.

***

"A Keyblade Master must always put others before themselves."

She is eight years old, hearing this lecture for the first time with wide eyes and an open, impressionable mind, and regards it as the gospel truth.

"Preserving the balance of the Realm of Light is the sole purpose of why we are given this gift, so it must be used wisely, and only in service of this goal. Do you understand, Aqua?"

"Y-yes, Master Eraqus, sir!" She nods firmly, seriously.

"Good girl." His face softens into a smile. He looks - happy.

***

The lines on her face are hard, unyielding to the softness of a smile. She no longer recognises herself. The sea has washed out of her hair, and the sight has receded from her eyes. Her body can can no longer stand up straight; the Master's Keyblade hangs at her side, useless as anything but a stick to prop herself vaguely upright.

She walks.

***

Aqua sits on a small bench, her tiny feet not quite touching the floor. She is gazing out over the Land of Departure, trying to count all of the twirling cables that wind around the paths. She has gotten to about twenty-three. It has only been five minutes, which she thinks is quite impressive.

"Hey! Whatcha doing?"

Aqua yelps, and the boy behind her laughs.

"Agh, Terra! I'm going to-"

***

"-look after him, will you?"

The Master regards the two of them solemnly.

"He is young. He will need guidance, yes, which I am happy to give to him as a teacher, but...he will also want friendship. Don't forget that." It seems more like the last part is addressed to himself, rather than Aqua and Terra.

The two reply with a chorus of 'Yes, Master."

***

"Aqua, please, hold it!"

Her mother's voice rises to a panicked screech, as she nearly shoves the handle of the long, sharp blade into Aqua's tiny hands. It's thick and sturdy, and the biting monster-jaws at the end of it are the same shade of red as her mother's hair.

"Please, Aqua!"

Tentative fingers curl around the handle. Frantic, whispered words, that make her fingers tingle and her heart sing with what she knows later to be the power of the blade choosing another wielder.

But in the moment it is-

confusionfearpanicmummywhereareyougoingdon'tleavemeplease-

please-

***

Her feet touch the ground for the first time, and she opens her eyes.

Her journey begins.

**Terra**

The brownsilver haired boy gazed off into the distance with his bluegold eyes, and smiled.

"This world is just too small."

_Wait, no, that wasn't right -_

The wise man, frail in his old age, lifted the blade with some difficulty. Terra ( **Xehanort** \- _no, not him, that was me_ ) reached out a hand, strong and sure ( **Weak. How could you be anything other than weak? Look at how easily you submit.** ) and took it into his hands. And nothing had ever felt so right, like this was what he was destined for-

( **Are you really so naive as to believe in destiny? Don't make me laugh-** )

( _Get out of my heart-_ )

( **Tsk. Feeble resistance will not help you. Your heart is nothing but a memory of mine.** )

It was the chaos of a summer midday, but instead of light and heat, there was only dark and cold.

There was something inhuman about it. The chaos was too regulated, too planned, to be a coincidence.

The brown haired boy looked out at the bright sunlight, and tried to remember how warmth felt.

But the sun was cold.

( **You think you have time for self-reflection? We have things to do.** )

He is laughing, ugly horrible laughter that shouldn't be coming out of his mouth. He looks down through this borrowed ( _stolen_ ) body at the boy who dares to challenge him.

Such a foolish child- ( _he is brave, so much more than he know_ s) - thinking he could try to defeat a man who walks among darkness like it is a home.

_But it wasn't always this way-_

( **Yes, it was. Why do you resist? You know darkness has always been our home**.)

He clutches to what little light he can find like a lifeline, because it is the only thing that will preserve his mind ( **MY mind, not yours, you ignorant fool, so much in denial** ).

When he sits alone in that great white castle, with a void in his chest, he clings to phantoms. A suit of armour, a sleeping boy who is so familiar and yet so alien at the same time, and blue eyes – blue eyes, that he cannot escape.

When that is gone, he clings only to one thing.

( **You’re still here? I thought you were nothing but memories**.)

( _I guess I am. Here because-_ )

( **You aren’t here for any reason. You’re the ghost of a memory of someone who died a very long time ago.** )

( _I made them a promise._ )

( **Who, your friends? They’re long gone.** )

( _I made them a promise. I’ll wait as long as it takes to see it kept._ )

**Ventus**

Your memory is starting to come back now.

Slowly, of course.

But everything is slow, now.

It is the midnight hour - no, the midnight year - no, the midnight eternity.

The whole world is asleep, and you are the only one to walk within it.

Well, that isn't strictly true.

There are, of course, the monsters.

But there have always been monsters that followed you; you expect them, now, are not surprised when you glimpse a shadow out of the corner of your eye.

At least they look like monsters, now. There is that small comfort. It's soothing that they are what they look like, that you can trust your eyes. But you've seen enough monsters in human skin to know what to look for, so maybe that's not the reason.

Maybe it's because you know the truth now. You know the truth about yourself and the world you lived in. In hindsight your naïveté and ignorance when you lived at the Land of Departure seems cripplingly idiotic, but at the same time you miss it. You miss not knowing the horrors you had to face, miss the ignorant bliss and the happiness.

It's kind of hilariously ironic that your thoughts are so dark when you are in a place that bursts with light. It pulsates with it; it is a heartbeat of brightness.

You wonder if that was what you felt like to him - your polar opposite who you dare not name for fear that you will be forced to face him again. You are so tired of fighting. You are so tired of everything, even though you do nothing but sleep.

Again, irony.

You can do nothing but simply sit, and think, in this surreal dreamscape that never changes; in this constant, slow stasis. It is an eternity between one thought and the next, an infinity within each breath.

You have nothing but time.

**Author's Note:**

> The theme that inspired this was ‘time’. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with the idea initally, but then I was reminded of the BBS trio, and I realised I hadn’t written anything about them before. I thought about all the time they spent/are currently spending waiting for Sora, and I wanted to explore how time might pass for each of them. I also hit upon the idea of relating each experience to a different time of day - Aqua is twilight,Terra is midday, and Ven is midnight. Each part is intended to show how those times of day feel - twilight is uncertain (if you wake unsure of the time of day, you can’t initially tell if it’s going to be morning or night), midday is chaotic (most people are awake at that time and moving around, doing things), and midnight seems to last forever (it seems like the sun will never rise). Hopefully each part conveys that well!


End file.
